


Layover in Paradise

by clgfanfic



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heyes and the Kid are hunted by a bounty hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Layover in Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Just You, Me and the Governor #2 and later in Compadres #8 under the pen name Lynn Gill.

          Jed "Kid" Curry carefully eased the trembling form of his cousin, Hannibal Heyes, off the winded bay gelding.  He watched the short, rapid puffs of white that formed in the cold night air.  Heyes groaned and fell into Curry's arms, too weak to get his feet under himself.

          "Whoa, easy, Heyes," the Kid said as he caught the dark-haired man just before he hit the ground.  He shivered, though he didn't know if it was from the cold or fear, and felt Heyes do the same.  Thank God it hasn't snowed or those bounty hunters would have caught us long before now.

          The barn looked like the best place to hole up long enough to change the makeshift bandages he had applied earlier and check on Heyes' bleeding.  The nagging realization that his cousin wasn't going to be able to ride alone any further in this condition crowded Curry's thoughts.  I'll tie him into the saddle, or to myself, the young blond man thought as he lay the barely conscious man down into the soft, fresh hay piled in an empty stall.  The dark-haired outlaw grimaced and swallowed a groan.

          "Where?" Heyes managed to ask as he looked skittishly around the well-used structure.  What was the Kid thinking about? There were obviously people around here, people who could probably use twenty thousand dollars.

          "Don't know for sure."  Curry helped him take a few sips of water from the canteen, realizing he'd also need to fill it before they left.  "Some farm.  I'm hopin' to find a doctor, but the town's real small from the looks of it, and those bounty hunters are only a few hours behind us.  I'll do what I can here, then we'll see if we can't get into town without being seen."

          "'S no good, Kid.  Get me back on that horse and let's get outta here."

          "You can't ride in the shape you're in," the blond mumbled as he worked.  "That side wound's open again, and I've got to stop that bleeding, or you're goin' to be in real trouble."

          Hannibal gave his cousin a knowing grin.  "I'm in real trouble already.  You're better off leaving me here.  Take off for the hills.  If Shank and his men catch me, maybe they'll count themselves lucky and you'll have a chance to get away.  You can come back, bust me out.  The local jail shouldn't be a problem if the town's small as you think, and they won't be able to move me like this."

          "Quit talkin' so much, will ya?"  Curry realized how bad Heyes' condition was, and it scared him.  He also knew that if he left his cousin here alone he'd be signing his death warrant.  Rumor was already proven.  Art Shank wouldn't bother with a man if he could get the same money for him dead, as alive.  No, to leave Heyes behind would be the same as shooting him where he lay and, damn it, Heyes knew it, too.  "We've got to find someplace for you to rest.  You need a doctor, not another six or eight hours on the back of a horse."

          "Well, I should say so."  Curry spun, diving into the hay, drawing his gun.  An older woman looked back at him and chuckled kindly, shaking her head.  Curry reddened slightly at his actions.  "Lands-sake, boy, you're the fastest thing I've seen, and I've seen a few fast ones in my day."

          Something about the woman made Curry trust her immediately, and he eased the revolver back into his holster.  She reminded him of Grandma Curry.

          The woman walked to Heyes and knelt beside him, peering at the two wounds.  "You'll have to get him inside, boy.  It's too dirty out here for me to do anything."

          "Ma'am, I do have to bind him up, but then we have to be movin' on."  Curry fidgeted under the woman's stern gaze, torn between his trust for her and the realization that it was only a matter of time before the bounty hunters narrowed down the barns he and Heyes could have stopped at.

          "Son, you move him again before we get that bleeding stopped good and proper, you're going to be stopping next to bury him."  She studied the indecision on the young blond man's face.  So much like Glen, she thought.

          "She's right," Heyes' voice rang with defeat.  "Now, will you listen to me and get outta here while you can?"

          "I'm not leaving you here alone," Curry snapped angrily.  Heyes could tell from the tone there was no use in arguing – he'd lose.

          The woman eyed them curiously.  "You boys on the lam?"

          The cousins exchanged glances.  "Yes, ma'am," Curry said, his cheeks flushing at the admission.  It suddenly seemed wrong.

          "Are the men looking for you close by?"

          "Yes, ma'am."  Heyes tried to sit up, getting as far as his elbows before his strength deserted him.  "We don't want to put you or your family in danger, so, if you could just give us directions to the doctor's—"

          "We don't have a doctor in the valley.  The nearest one is in Winnemucca, but Doc Harbor is out of town right now.  There was a big outbreak of typhoid among the Indians on the Pyramid Reservation, and he's helping out there until it's past," she explained.  "Look, boys, I don't care what you're wanted for just now because I know if something isn't done about those wounds, this young man here is goin' to die, and I just hate to see life wasted."  She directed the comment at Curry.  "You bring him in the house and let me take a look, and the two of you can decide what to do while I work."

          "We've got no choice," Curry told Hannibal as he gently helped Heyes to his feet and supported him as they followed the woman back to the squat adobe farm house.

          A warm calm enveloped Curry as they entered.  Small, clean and filled with a feeling of family, the place left the Kid feeling at home – safe and comfortable.

          "Get him up on the table," the woman instructed as she removed her long blue shawl, allowing them their first good look at her.  About fifty, the woman possessed the kind of beauty that wouldn't fade, no matter how old she grew.  Years of hard work had left their marks on her, but they were marks of courage, perseverance, and wisdom.

          "Ma'am?"

          "You heard me right, the table.  We have to get those pieces of lead out and that's the best place for me to work.  Don't you worry, I've done my share of healin' over the years and I've helped the doctor too many times to count, so just do as you're told, young man."

          "Yes, ma'am," Curry said as he lifted his cousin onto the large hand-hewn table.  There must have been a sizable family living here.  The idea that those people might still be in the house gave the Kid a momentary start, his eyes wandering nervously over the darkened doorways that led out of the kitchen before he realized that her children were probably all grown and married by now.

          He watched as she smoothed her grey-brown hair, held in a full twist at the back of her head.  She was still a handsome woman and Curry tried to imagine what she would have looked like in her youth.  It was a pleasant picture.  She walked over and washed her hands, and when through, turned her pale blue eyes on Curry and had him do the same.

          While he cleaned up the woman used a large pair of scissors to cut Hannibal's pants off.  "I'm sorry about your clothes, son," she told him as she worked.  "I have some of Nathan's old clothes around here that should fit you when you're up to putting them on."

          "He your son, ma'am?" Heyes asked as she slowly peeled the blood-soaked pant leg off his thigh.  White long-johns went the same way, and Hannibal blushed a deep red as she peeled them off, ashamed of his nakedness.

          "Sakes no, Nathan was my first husband," she said, ignoring his embarrassment – eight sons, six daughters and numerous grandchildren left nothing to the imagination.  "He died… three years ago now."

          "I'm sorry," Heyes said as she started investigating the wounds more closely.

          "Thank you, son."  The tone of his voice told her he meant it.  "Nathan was a real fine man.  You favor him a little yourself."  She smiled, and pushed the dark hair off his sweat-dampened forehead.  Heyes blushed again, right down to his toes.

          "Are you alone here?" Curry asked as he finished drying his hands.

          "My heavens, but you're the worrier."  She moved away to set a kettle of water on the wood stove to heat.  "I've remarried.  Went from a Gilliland to a Grigsby.  Jim Grigsby is my husband now.  He's a good man, too.  I'm sure Nathan would've approved if he'd the chance to meet him."

          "Where is your husband, ma'am?" Curry asked casually, his hand dropping slightly toward his gun.

          "He's on a cattle drive, so you can quit bein' so all fired jumpy.  Jim, my sons, grandsons, and Lannie won't be back for another week."  Curry folded his arms across his chest.  He didn't think she'd noticed the subtle move, but he was worried.

          Heyes groaned, his hand moving for the wound just above the point of his right hip.  The woman's hand intercepted his and she held it firmly as he squeezed and tossed on the table.  Curry stepped up to the table and took Heyes' other hand, feeling the fear that rose in his cousin.

          The large teakettle began to whistle.  "You make sure he doesn't touch either of those wounds, understand?"  She gave him the hand she was holding.  Curry nodded.  "And see that you don't, either."

          Mrs. Grigsby grabbed a cloth and expertly wrapped it around the handle with a flick of her wrist, then carried the kettle and a bowl back to the table.  She filled the bowl with hot water, returned the pot to the stove and left them alone, disappearing into one of the dark rooms off the kitchen.

          "Kid, you've gotta get out of here before those bounty hunters find us.  You're a sittin' duck here."

          "I'm not leavin' you like this, Heyes, so save your strength, and quit tryin' to talk me into goin'."

          "Damn you and that Curry stubbornness," Heyes hissed through gritted teeth.  It was no use, Jed wouldn't go until he was sure Heyes would be alright, but the way he felt, Hannibal was afraid the Kid would be leaving after they buried him.

          Jed prayed silently that some of that "Curry stubborn" would pull Heyes though this one.  If only they hadn't gotten careless, but they hadn't slept but a few snatched hours, or what they could steal on horseback, since they snuck out of Ely when the bounty hunters had arrived.  That was five, no, six days ago.  Curry shook his head as the days fused into one long, endless feeling of exhaustion and fear.  The posse had given up when they crossed the Wyoming border, but the bounty hunters had continued to hound them all the way into Nevada.  Every time they thought their pursuers had been shaken, they appeared again.  Finally he and Heyes headed out into the desert hoping to lose them in the vast alkali wastes.  At least the desert had been cool in the early weeks of winter.  It hadn't worked any better than anything else, though.  They must be damn near in Oregon or Idaho by now.        At least the rest of the gang and the money were safe.  Heyes made sure he and the Kid led the posse off so they could get safely back to Devil's Hole with the loot.  The lack of food and sleep made them careless.  The hunters managed to get the drop on them that morning, hiding in the jagged crags of the broken northern Nevada hills.  Heyes took two bullets, the Kid escaping with a hole in the brim of his hat.  They spent all morning shaking the men off their trail; by late afternoon Heyes could barely sit the saddle, and Curry was getting scared.  When they topped the sage-covered hill and spotted the long, green valley below, Jed thought he'd found Paradise.

          He could see that the town was small – if you could even call it one, and he wasn't sure you could – so Curry picked one of the nearest barns and lead them down off the sage-covered hills just as the sun began to set.  He picked the right barn, he was sure.  If anyone could pull Heyes through, it was this woman.  Jed realized he hadn't asked her name yet, but then, she hadn't asked theirs yet either.

          The woman re-entered the kitchen carrying a small box, obviously made by inexperienced hands, opened it and removed a small pair of scissors, a large needle and some stout thread.  Setting these on the table next to the bowl of cooling water she paused, then went to the china cabinet that sat against one wall and came back with a pair of tweezers and a small knife.

          "Do you boys mind if I ask your names?  I like to know who I'm sharing my roof with. If you want to, though, I'm not demanding."

          "No, ma'am, that's only fair.  My name's Jed, and he's my cousin, Hannibal."

          She smiled at the fact that he had left out their last names.  It was hard to imagine these boys as outlaws.  "Well, Jed, if you'll go pull down that big jug of corn whiskey and bring it over here, I'd appreciate it."  She nodded to a shelf above the stove.  Curry went for the jug as she washed her hands again.  "Pour a heavy dose of that in the bowl, and then bring the jug over here to me.

          "Pour some over my hands," she told him when he joined her.  He gave her a questioning look but did as she asked.  "Good, now you wash your hands again and pour some of the whisky over them and come over and help me."

          She placed the instruments she'd gathered into the hot water and whiskey, even the thread, and left them to soak while she took a cloth from her apron pocket and dipped it into the mixture.  "This is going to bite a bit, I'm afraid," she told Heyes as she began to clean the blood from around the entrance of the thigh wound.

          Heyes sucked in his breath as she began, but after a while the biting sting of the whiskey numbed the pain and he allowed himself to breathe again.  "Lucky this didn't break the bone," she told him as Curry stepped up to join her.

          "How you doin'?" he asked, unsure what else to say.

          "How does it look?"

          "Like it hurts."

          "Well, you're right."

          "Jed, you take hold of Hannibal's legs and hold him still as you can.  And you," she said to Heyes, "you try to lay still.  I don't mind some yellin', but if you set up a'squirming' I'll have your cousin here plant one on your jaw."

          Heyes smiled and laughed weakly.  "I'll try, ma'am.  But I've never been shot before, so I can't make any promises."

          "I know you'll try, and you're doing just fine for a first time.  You boys apparently don't do things in half measures."

          She reached in and took the small knife from the water and set to work digging the bullet out of Heyes' thigh.  He moaned and tossed his head, clinching his jaws and eyes shut but held still.  Once she found the fragment of metal and teased it out she stopped and let the wound bleed for a time, pouring whiskey over the open flesh.  Heyes groaned and clutched the sides of the table.  "This'll help keep the infection from being so bad.  I know it hurts, but it's for the best, or so the doc tells me."  Heyes gasped back a sob that made its way into his throat.  When she finished she carefully stitched the wound closed with the water and whiskey soaked thread.

          Mopping Hannibal's ashen face with a damp cloth, she let him rest before starting on the second wound.  "You're doing just fine."  He nodded, unable to stop the tears that filled his eyes and flowed down the sides of his face – a product of pain, fear, embarrassment, and sheer exhaustion.

          She wiped his face once more, then picked up the small knife and set to work on the wound just above the point of his hip.  Curry, working this time to keep Heyes on the table as she probed for the slug, fought back his own feelings of panic.

          After what felt like an eternity she found and carefully extracted the second slug, Heyes finally releasing the moan he'd held in during the procedure.  The sound of it sent chills rippling through Curry.  _Please, Heyes, fight it out.  You're strong.  I know you are.  I should've seen that trap coming.  I should've seen it.  I don't know what I'll do if you don't make it, please, please, don't make me find out_.

          The second didn't bleed as well as the first to cleanse itself, and Mrs. Grigsby poured more whiskey over it to make up for the lack.  Heyes' stomach muscles rippled, and his breaths came in great heaving sobs that frightened Curry as much as the wounds themselves.  He had never seen Heyes so much pain before, and, Curry admitted to himself, he had never really thought about losing him before.

          Grandma Grigsby sat the whiskey bottle aside and began to stitch the wound closed, and Heyes was able to remain still as she finished, the sobs slowly diminishing.  Curry didn't know what to do.  Not being able to help left him frustrated and mad, but Heyes' pain kept him frozen at the foot of the table.

          When she finished Mrs. Grigsby cleaned Hannibal up and bandaged the wounds.  "Bring him on in the bedroom here," was the direction to Curry, as she pointed to the room she had disappeared into earlier.  The Kid forced himself from where he was rooted, and lifted Heyes into his arms as carefully as he could, the move still bringing a cry of pain from the half-conscious man.  Curry winced.  "I'm sorry, Heyes," he whispered as he carried him to the bed that occupied one wall.

          "'S not your fault, Kid," was the slurred reply.

          She had turned back the covers and Curry laid his cousin down, watching as he sank into the feather mattress, looking pale, small and child-like.  Hannibal tried to give his worried companion a reassuring smile, but Curry could see the fear in Heyes' eyes, and he frowned in reply.

          The old woman took over, tucking the blankets up around Hannibal's shoulders, then wiping his face once more with a damp cloth.  "You did more than fine," she told him.  "Sleep now, dear.  I'll wake you in a few hours and have you take some broth."

          Heyes looked at her and tried to speak, but his mouth just trembled instead.

          "Save your strength.  And don't you worry; we'll be here if you need us."  She patted his cheek, and Hannibal relaxed, letting sleep draw his eyes shut.

          Turning back to Curry, she saw him trying to wipe away tears before she caught him.  "He's lost a terrible amount of blood, the two of you look like you haven't slept in days, and I won't ask how long it's been since either of you've eaten, but, he's young and strong.  I think he might pull through, with rest, and God's help."

          "Yes, ma'am.  I sure do thank you."

          "Don't you be thanking me just yet.  Come on in here so I can put some food in your belly before you faint away yourself."

          Curry followed her back into the kitchen and helped her clean up, then sat down to work on a cup of the best tasting coffee he could remember while he watched her fixing the meal.  She decided not to mention the dollop of whiskey added to the cup before she handed it to him.

          With every sound from outside Curry jumped and fidgeted as he sat, thinking how close the bounty hunters must be getting.  He knew as soon as it was light they'd have no trouble following the trail of blood Heyes had left right to the barn, and then they'd be good as caught.

          Grandma Grigsby slid a plate to the young man and watched as Curry tried to maintain some table manners as he wolfed the food down.  They hadn't eaten a real meal the whole time they were being tracked and the Kid hadn't realized how hungry he was until she sat the ham and eggs in front of him.

          Once he'd eaten, Jed knew it was a losing battle to try to keep his eyes open. "Ma'am," the food and whiskey mixed with exhaustion to slur his words, "we have to be movin' on before daybreak or those men are going to follow Hannibal's blood right to your barn."

          "Just who are these men who'd hunt down two boys like a pair of rabid wolves?"

          "Bounty hunters, ma'am," Curry told her, shaking his head to force himself awake.

          "Well, bounty hunters or no, you two can't leave, at least not for a couple days.  If your cousin tears those stitches open, or gets an infection on the trail, it'll kill him, and you're certainly in no condition to ride, why, you're falling asleep at my table.  So, get on in there and get some sleep.  I'll keep an eye out for those bounty hunters, and I know how to use a rifle if need be."

          "I surely appreciate all you've done, ma'am, but—"

          "And please stop callin' me ma'am.  Mama I'm used to, but ma'am makes me feel old," she said with a twinkle in her eye.  "Most everybody in these parts call me Grandma Grigsby, so I guess you two can, too, this family wouldn't notice a couple more additions, it's so big.  Now, get your hind end in there and get some sleep, or so help me I'll—"

          "Yes, ma'am, huh, excuse me, Grandma," the Kid said, rising from the table as she grabbed for the skillet on the stove she'd used to cook his eggs in.  Curry knew she was playing, but he was beyond riding, and Heyes couldn't sit a horse right now to save his life.  If the bounty hunters showed up, he'd deal with them somehow, but now all he wanted was a few hours in a soft bed.

          "Mind you, get out of those dirty clothes before you get in there with him.  There's one of Jim's nightshirts on top the dresser in there, put that on first."

          Curry hurried off to the other room to join Heyes and Grandma Grigsby watched him go, shaking her head, a smile on her face.  Where Hannibal reminded her of her first husband, Jed reminded her of her first lover – same blue eyes and corn blond hair.  Same worry nature.  She realized that she had opened her home to two admitted outlaws, but just couldn't force herself to see them as anything but boys.  They might be wanted, but they're good boys.  And, whatever they've done, I know they've never hurt anyone.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Twice she woke Hannibal to have him take a cup of squaw tea with catnip.  Both times Jed slept straight though the procedures.

          "He's awful worn down," Hannibal whispered during the second visit with Grandma, who sat next to the bed.  "I don't remember the Kid ever sleepin' through noise like this."

          "Well, he's sick too."  Heyes gave her a questioning look.  "Oh, I don't mean he's got a sickness or anything like that, but he's sick in the heart, worrin' about you, and he's sick from lack of food and sleep, just like you are.  I still can't imagine men who can make a living, huntin' other men, especially when they're just younguns."

          Heyes smiled thinly.  "They think they're helpin' all the decent folks out there, ma'am, getting rid of all the outlaws."

          "Heaven knows that might not be such a bad thing in a few cases, but I've noticed that most the men I'd like to see the good Lord removed from our midst, aren't outlaws."

          "Yes, ma'am," he whispered with a small smile while she lay a cool cloth on his forehead and tucked the blankets up tighter around his shoulders.  "We do have to get movin' soon or those men are going to find us, and then we'll be dead."

          "Dead?"

          "We're wanted dead or alive, ma'am."

          "Lands-sake, boy, just what've you two done?"

          "We rob banks, and trains."

          She fought back a smile at the serious way Hannibal had explained their outlawry.  "And for that they'll send men to hunt you down and kill you?"

          "The banks and the railroads are mighty powerful, and they took a distinct dislike to the Kid and me."

          "Well, you'll find some sympathetic people in this valley.  The banks and the railroads aren't too popular here.  Why, we don't even have a bank in the valley.  Once you boys are healthy, I suppose that'll be a blessin'."

          Heyes grinned.  "That won't stop bounty hunters; that's why we have to leave."

          "Son, you aren't in any condition for a hard ride and neither is Jed.  You both need rest, some good cookin' and a little peace for your souls.  How old are you, boy?"

          "Twenty-four, ma'am."

          "Well, Hannibal, you're too old."  She removed the cloth from his forehead.  "You're at least as old as Jim… in here."  She touched his chest above his heart.  "And you need time to be young men, not wanted men."

          Curry stirred in the bed next to Heyes, moving to bury himself farther in the soft mattress, but didn't wake.  Heyes looked over at him and she could see the concern in his dark brown eyes.  "I wish we could've crossed trails with you about four years ago, ma'am."

          "Please, call me Grandma, or Grandma Grigsby, boy, or I'm going to start thinkin' I'm ready for the grave."

          He smiled thinly.  "It was already too late for me, but the Kid…"  Heyes paused, looking back at the woman, suddenly needing what a mother could give, "He needed someone like you.  It would've kept him straight.  He always fought this outlawin' more than I did."

          Grandma Grigsby leaned over and kissed the young man on the forehead.  "You don't see the soul I do, Hannibal.  Now, you get some more sleep, your fever is still building and I want you well rested when it gets around to burnin' that infection out."

          Heyes nodded.  He wanted to cry, but couldn't find the strength to let go of all the pain and heartache he had walled away so long ago, so he shut his eyes and let the Kid's steady breathing lull him back to sleep while he thought about what she said about his soul.

          Grandma Grigsby left the two sleeping cousins and headed for the kitchen.  Laura would be here soon, and probably the bounty hunters as well – their horses would have to be moved.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Curry heard a voice.  He froze, opened his eyes and waited, but the voices didn't come again.  The aromas of fresh coffee, bacon, and buttermilk biscuits coming from the kitchen, mixed with the smells of the house and the young blond man shivered beneath the warm covers, remembering the last time he had smelt those things all together – the morning of the raid on the farm, the morning his and Heyes' parents had been killed.

          Climbing carefully from the bed he pulled his clothes on, then checked on Heyes.  He was sleeping so peacefully that Curry didn't have the heart to wake him. If those bounty hunters show up, maybe I can lead them away.  I'll probably get caught, but at least you won't be dead, he thought as he pulled the blankets back up from where Heyes had pushed them down while he slept.  Of course how long Shank would keep him alive wasn't a pleasant second thought.

          "Mornin'," said a pretty young woman standing at the stove.  The Kid stood in the doorway, speechless.  She had thick red-brown hair, large blue eyes, and a smile that told Curry he was staring.  He looked away, feeling the blood surge to his cheeks.  "Mama said the cookin' might get you moving.  This'll be ready in a few minutes, if you'd like a cup of coffee and a shave first."

          Curry felt his hand instantly rise to his chin and the trail growth.  She was right, he did need to shave – unless he was going to follow Grandpa Curry's example and let his whiskers run wild.  "Yes'um, I think I will," he mumbled and took the cup she poured for him.

          "If you open the curtains in mama's room, you'll find everything you need.  I fixed it up earlier when I shaved Hannibal.  You didn't even notice, did you?"  He shook his head and blushed again, realizing she'd been in the room while he was sleeping and he hadn't heard her.

          "Gonna get myself killed if I keep this up," he whispered to himself.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          He shaved quickly, the smells from the other room drawing him like an iron shaving to a lodestone.  When he re-entered the kitchen he found Grandma Grisby standing at the stove.

          "Good morning, Jed.  Sit down, your breakfast is ready."

          "Yes, ma'am," he said, sliding into a chair, looking around for the younger woman.  "Grandma Grigsby," he said, still hesitant about the title, "when I woke up there was a girl…"  He trailed off.

          "That's one of my daughters, Laura.  She and her husband live on one of the adjoining farms.  Nathaniel's out on the drive with the rest of the men, and Lannie. Believe me, Jed, you're safe in this valley – most everyone here is related to the Gilliland's or the Grigsby's, and we take care of our own."

          "Mama, there're four men coming down Martin creek," Laura said as she reentered the house, causing Jed to jump and nearly spill the cup of coffee he was holding.  "Looks like they're following some sort of tracks."

          "Come with me," she told Curry and headed back into the bedroom where Heyes was still sleeping.  Laura removed Curry's half-finished plate from the table.

          Grandma Grigsby went to the large throw rug that covered a good portion of the floor and stooped down, tossing it back to expose a large door set in the floor.  Jed eyed it curiously.  Reaching down she pulled the door open.  "Pick Hannibal up and bring him down here."

          There was a small room below the house, and the woman pointed to a bed that sat nestled in one corner.  Curry carried Heyes over and laid him down on the bare feather mattress.

          "Laura, bring me down a couple of those blankets," she called up to her daughter.  "You stay down here with Hannibal, and Laura and I will see to those men.  As soon as it's safe, we'll come for you."

          Curry was scared, every fiber in his body screamed that this could be a trap and he was letting the woman cage him down here.  He needed to be out in the open so he could run, protect Heyes.  At the same time, he trusted her.  Curry nodded, leaving their lives in her hands.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The square-jawed blond swung stiffly from his saddle, kneeling down to study the drops of blood leading into the larger barn.  It had been a long chase, but it was almost over.  Looking up at the other three men who sat wearily on their horses, he nodded.  They swung out of the saddles, drawing rifles from their scabbards as they did.  The four carefully approached the barn doors together, guns ready.

          "Heyes, Curry, come on out," the man who had examined the tracks called.  There was no answer.

          The four men moved around the doors, finally entering the barn.  One of the others yanked his hat off and threw it onto the damp ground.  "Damn it, Shank, I told you they were long gone!"

          "I don't think so," said Shank, rubbing his square jaw with finger and thumb. "There's no blood going out, only going in."

          "Curry probably stopped here just long enough to bind Heyes up and they're gone I tell you," a second man said in a half moan.

          "I don't think so," the first repeated.  "I say we go have a little chat with the people in the house."

          "You think they're in there?" a third member of the group asked.

          "I know this, Davin, Heyes couldn't have travelled any further than this with all the blood he was losing and still be in the saddle, and there are no tracks of two men riding double.  They had to stop here, or in town, and I don't think they made it as far as town, if there even is a town.  I think they're in there," he nodded at the house.  "Probably holding that poor family hostage, and wondering what they're going to do now."

          "Assuming of course Heyes ain't dead, in which case Curry'll be half way to California," Davin added.

          The other two men nodded, one saying, "I never did see an outlaw stick around long enough to bury another of their kind.  You think Heyes is still kickin', Shank?"

          The blond-haired man shrugged, "If he isn't dead, he's in that house, so that's where we're going."  Then they'll both be dead and I can go home, he finished silently.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The knock was short and loud.  Grandma Grigsby opened the door just far enough to look out.  "Can I help you?"

          "Ma'am, my name's Art Shank, and my men and I are looking for two outlaws, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry.  We tracked them as far as your barn there. We'd like to come and have a look around, if you wouldn't mind."

          "Well, I would mind," she told them.  "I've never turned a stranger away from my door, but I won't open my house to them either to go snoopin' around like a hog in the woods.  If you and your men want some breakfast and coffee, you're welcome to it; looks like you could use it.  But I won't have you searching my home.  There are no outlaws under my roof."

          "We're concerned that those men might be holding some of your family hostage to make you say that, ma'am."

          "Sir, I assure you, there's no one here holding anyone against their will.  Now, I'll only ask once more, would you like some breakfast?"

          Shank nodded, and Grandma opened the door.  The men stepped into the house, Shank with his gun still ready should he need it.  Laura stood at the stove, holding a shotgun by the barrel, the stock resting on her toe.  She nodded at the men as they entered, Davin and the other two moving to the table to sit.

          "Hold it, boys," Shank said, raising the gun, pointing it at Laura.  "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we have to take a look around.  It's for your own safety, and ours."

          Laura shook her head and leaned the shotgun against the wall, then went back to the eggs she was scrambling.  The men fanned out, giving the house a thorough searching.  Grandma Grigsby followed Shank into the bedroom as he searched it, taking a seat in her rocking chair, sitting on top of the throw rug.  "This is a mighty poor way to repay my hospitality, sir.  If I were you, I'd be out of this valley before my husband and sons come home.  They won't take kindly to men who hold my daughter and I at gunpoint and snoop through the house like common thieves.  And mind that I want all your pockets turned out when you leave."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Curry stood at the bottom of the cellar stairs, gun drawn, and listened to the rhythmic squeak of the old rocker.  The heavy sound of boots moving slowly around the room echoed hollowly above him.  He glanced at his cousin.  Heyes was fretting under the covers, and Curry hoped he wouldn't make any noise that might give them away.  The Kid's hands trembled slightly, and he could feel the sweat rolling slowly down his back.  His breath was tight and rapid as he listened to the heavy footfall finally fade from the room.  The squeaking of the rocking chair stopped, and a lighter footfall followed the boots out of the room.

          "Kid?"

          Curry turned back to find Heyes looking groggily about the room.  "Quiet, Heyes," the Kid said, moving to stand at the bedside.

          "Where am I?  The doc's?"

          "No, Grandma Grigsby's cellar," Curry whispered.  "Those bounty hunters are upstairs."

          Heyes eyes flew open wide.  "What are you doin' here?  Why didn't you run when you had the chance?"

          "Heyes, I didn't have the chance.  Besides, I told you I'm not leaving you alone, so for the last time quit harpin' on it."

          Hannibal scowled at the younger man.

          It seemed like a week passed before Curry heard the light footfall re-enter the room and the sound of the rocker being dragged off the rug.  The door opened above him and Grandma Grigsby's voice echoed down to him, "It's all right now; you can bring Hannibal back up."

          Curry walked over to the bed and gathered the unconscious body of his cousin into his arms.  A fine film of sweat covered the outlaw's body and the heat from the building fever burned through Curry's shirt sleeves.

          Laura had clean sheets ready by the time Curry made it to the top of the stairs.  He took Heyes over and replaced him in the large feather bed.  Grandma placed a wrinkled hand on the injured man's cheek, then on his chest, testing the fever.  When she finished she pulled the blankets up to cover Heyes and motioned for Curry to follow her into the kitchen.

          Jed took a seat at the kitchen table, and Laura quickly had a plate of breakfast sitting in front of him.  Grandma sat down across from him, and Laura left them alone, going in to sit with Heyes.  Curry looked worriedly around the room, as if he expected the bounty hunters to step out of the walls.  "You are a first class worrier, boy," Grandma said and chuckled.  Curry blushed slightly.  "They rode into town.  I made sure ol' Jack saw them off the property.  He wouldn't have come home if they were still on the ranch."

          "Jack?"

          "An old, loyal dog," she explained, rising to go and fill the cup of coffee Curry had already drained.

          "They'll be back when they find out we're not in town."

          "Maybe so, but they won't be coming back in this house, so you and Hannibal will be safe.  When Jim and the boys get home you won't have to worry at all, they'll see to it those men are escorted from the valley."

          Curry swallowed the last of his eggs and looked up at the old woman.  "Ma'am, just where are we, exactly?"

          She smiled.  "Why, Paradise, Jed."

          A shiver ran down his back and the thought that both he and Heyes were dead and gone on to their final rewards flashed through his mind.  "Ma'am?"

          "Paradise Valley, boy, and the town – if you can call it one – is called Paradise."

          Visions of what the valley looked like when he had topped the rise and seen it for the first time replaced the more heavenly images, and he smiled at her.  "Yes, ma'am, I believe it."

          "We're just about spittin' distance from the Oregon and Idaho border here, but you're still in Nevada."

          "What's that room down there for?" he asked, unable to keep his curiosity from getting the better of him.

          "About twenty years ago, not long after we settled here there was a series of Indian uprisings – Shoshoni and Paiute mostly.  Of course that was before the Army came in and set up Camp Scott and McDermott.  Nathan dug that out so the kids could hide down there and not feel so scared.  It's come in handy a time or two."

          Jed nodded and finished the last of the meal as Laura peered around the door.  "Mama, his fever's climbing and he's in considerable pain."

          Grandma Grigsby rose and headed back to the bedroom, Curry following closely on her heels.  Heyes was tossing restlessly under the quilts, face flushed, and his jaw tightly clinched shut.   The old woman frowned.  "Laura, go get the laudanum and a glass of water, then brew me up some squaw tea and put a big dose of catnip and a touch of yarrow in it."

          "Yes'um," she said softly and brushed past Curry with a reassuring smile.  It didn't work.

          Grandma pulled the covers off Heyes' chest, then sat down on the bed.  She carefully removed the bandage from the side wound and inspected the draining, angry red injury.  Heyes fretted more as she touched and probed.  When she finished she recovered it with fresh bandages and moved to check the leg wound.  She had just pulled the covers up again when Laura came in carrying the items she had asked for.  "How is he?"

          "Not good, child.  The fever's still climbing and it doesn't show signs of stopping anytime soon.  That side wound is worse than I thought it would be.  We have to make sure he gets plenty of water right now, that's the most important thing, don't want him to get weak from dehydration.  He needs all the strength he has to fight this infection.  Water, and keepin' him as comfortable as we can is all we can do.  This isn't goin' as well as I had hoped it would.  The fever'll burn that infection out, but if we can't control it, well, that's as dangerous as the infection itself."  She looked at Curry, who was pale.  "I'm sorry, boy, but you have to know the truth of it.  Things could get very bad for Hannibal and I want you ready if it does."

          Laura sat the bottle of laudanum down on the nightstand, and moved to pour a glass of water from the pitcher on the dresser. She added a few drops of the medicine.  Grandma Grigsby took the glass from her daughter, and instructed, "Laura, ya bring in a big bowl of cold water so we can sponge him down, and Jed—"

          "Yes, ma'am," he said, anxious to be able to do something, anything, to help.

          "Help me get Hannibal sitting up, then go over next to him and help me get this into him. This'll probably be the only dose we can give him, but it'll help for a little while."

          Jed nodded and gently took his cousin under the arms and raised Heyes up while she arranged the pillows, then lowered the dark-haired man back.  Heyes felt so light that it startled the young outlaw.  Hannibal groaned but didn't open his eyes.  Walking around the bed, Curry sat down, leaning one shoulder against the hand-carved headboard.

          Grandma took Heyes' face in her hands, saying, "Hannibal, can you hear me? Come on now, boy, wake up."  He ground his eyes further shut, scowling.  She shook his head more forcefully.  "Hannibal, you have to wake up, come on."

          Heyes could hear words as they filtered in past the roar echoing in his mind, pushing his consciousness down into a black abyss of pain and fear.  At first he thought it was his mother who was calling, and he forced his eyes open with a whispered, "Ma?"

          Curry reached out, touching Hannibal's bare shoulder, "Easy, Heyes," he said softly.  "Open your eyes."

          The Kid.  Heyes looked around until he caught sight of the blond man, and smiled weakly.  "Hi ya, Kid."

          "How you feelin'?" Curry asked, knowing it was a perfectly obvious reply that he had coming.

          "Hot, real hot," Heyes said, trying to swallow, but his throat was too dry.  "Funny," he whispered, "I thought it was winter."

          "Just fever," Grandma said, and Heyes looked from the Kid to the older woman.  "I want you to drink this, there's some laudanum in here that'll help the pain, then I want you to try to take some tea for me.  The Indians around here use it for fevers."  Heyes nodded and she handed the glass to Curry.

          Carefully he held it up to the injured man's lips.  Heyes finished it in a few gulps, and Grandma Grigsby passed Curry a cup of the tea.  The smell that rose from the liquid made his stomach churn, but Heyes didn't seem to notice it at all.  It took longer, but he was able to finish all of the tea as well.  Laura carried in the bowl of water and sat it down on the nightstand, then pulled the other articles out of here apron pocket and sat them down next to the bowl.  "Do you need me, mama?" she asked.  "I should go tend the claves."  She gave Heyes a worried look.

          "No, child, you go on, we'll do just fine."

          Grandma took one of the cloths, dipped it into the bowl, wrung it out, and placed it on Heyes' forehead.  She took a second and used it to wipe the sweat from Hannibal's face, neck and chest.  Curry watched, unsure what he could, or should, do to help.

          Heyes shuddered as she worked, his fingers curling into the covers.  He moaned.  _Damn this hurts.  I never thought gettin' shot would be like this.  Sure as hell don't know what I thought it would be like, though.  I'm just glad it was me, and not the Kid.  But, Lord I'm scared…_

          Curry reached out instinctively, letting his hand cover his cousin's.  Without looking up at the younger man Heyes released his grip on the quilts and inserted his hand into the Kid's grasp.  "I'm sure glad you stayed," he whispered.  Curry gave the trembling hand a careful squeeze, watching Heyes' eyes as they slid shut again.

          "You're goin' to be fine, Heyes," the Kid said determinedly.  Grandma watched the pair, her concern hidden behind a neutral expression.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The scream brought Curry wide awake.  Heyes had curled himself into a small ball on the bed, while Grandma Grigsby held his head in her lap, on arm around his shoulders while she rocked him slightly from side to side.  Jed scrambled from the rocking chair he'd fallen asleep in next to the fireplace to join them on the bed.  Heyes twisted and fought against the burning agony that gripped his midsection, spreading out to set his entire body on fire.  All that filtered through was the pain, moment after endless moment.  _Where's the Kid?  God, I want this to end, just let me die if it's my time.  Please, just let it end._

          Curry looked frantically to the older woman.  She was frowning.  "Jed, put just a touch of laudanum in a full glass of water and bring it to me."

          He moved to prepare the concoction as the door opened and Laura came running in.  "Mama, those men, they're coming back."

          "Get the gun, Laura, keep them out of the house."  Curry brought the glass to her.  "Jed, help me sit him up."

          The two worked to unfold Heyes and get him up so that Curry could hold him against his chest in a seated position.  Grandma took the glass from where Jed set it on the nightstand and gripped Heyes' shoulder, shaking him roughly.  "Wake up, boy, come on."  Heyes' eyes opened, but remained unfocused, unseeing.  She raised the glass to his mouth and he gulped thirstily, the coolness helping to ease the fire in his stomach.

          "Hang on just a little while longer, Heyes, this'll help the pain," he heard Curry say in a far away voice.  He struggled to reach that voice but couldn't find his way through the maze that his mind had created.  _Why don't you do something!  God, why are you doing this to me?  I know I ain't been the best, but…_

          "Kid?"

          Curry could feel his cousin's body shaking uncontrollably as it burned with fever.  He leaned his head closer to hear the mumbled words.

          Heyes tried to speak but the laudanum was making it impossible, separating his mind from some of the pain of his body, leaving him when he couldn't force the thoughts from his mind to his mouth.  Kid, I don't think I've ever been this scared before, Hannibal thought, beginning to cry in his cousin's arms.  _What's happening to me?_

          "Hang on, Hannibal, please," he heard the Kid whisper to him.  "I don't want to be alone."

          Curry moved to lay the injured man back down on the bed but the panicked look and squeal the move drew from Heyes stopped him.

          "No, Jed.  He's scared, son.  You sit there and hold him, hold him tight as you can.  You're his link to this world right now.  If you let go, he just might too," Grandma said, moving off the bed.  Soaking several cloths in the cold water, she draped them over Heyes' torso and legs, trying to lower the fever.

          Curry sat, cradling Heyes in his arms, trying to quiet him as best he could.  He was afraid to say anything, knowing if he tried the fear would be evident, so he hushed him quietly and rocked slowly from side to side while Hannibal continued to cry.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Everything shifted.  The terrible pain that gripped him a few moments before slipped away like a bad dream.  He felt free, light and free.  The world shimmered in colors and feelings Heyes had never known before and, looking down, he heard himself gasp for breath and watched as the Kid rocked him in his arms.

          Heyes looked around and realized that he was floating in one corner of the room, several feet off the floor.  _I must be delirious, he thought as he continued to watch the two people work over him.  That, or I'm dead._

          He watched the Kid's hand moved up and touched his face.  The words the young blond man spoke came to Heyes as a distant muffle.  "You're the best friend I've ever had, Heyes, not just family.  I don't know what I'll do if you die.  You can't, damn it, you just can't.  Do you hear me?"

          _I hear you, Kid_ , Heyes said, but there were no words.  _But it doesn't look like I have a whole lot to say about it._

          Hannibal's chest rose and fell in a frantic effort to force more air into his lungs while he watched from the corner.  _No, I'm not dead yet, but damned if I know what's happening.  Guess I expected angels and choir music, something._

          He knew the Kid was there, strong arms wrapped around him, and Hannibal wanted to reach out and grab a hold of Curry, but he couldn't make his arms rise.  _I think I'm goin' to die, Jed. I don't want to leave you alone, but I don't know what to do.  Please, please, Kid, stay here with Grandma, be safe._

          A commotion in the kitchen caught Curry's attention.  Laura called out a warning, but it didn't sound like it was going to be heeded.  Heyes looked on from his corner as Grandma grabbed his gun from the holster hanging on the bed post in time to get the weapon up as Shank and one of his men entered the room.  "That's far enough," she said, leveling the handgun.

          Shank stared at the two men on the bed, lowering the rifle he was holding.

          "Put those guns down on the floor, now," Grandma snapped.

          The two men complied.

          Heyes gasped, arching back into Curry, who glared at the pair, hatred burning in his eyes as fiercely as his cousin's fever burned his skin.  Curry's hand reached the gun he wore, and Heyes realized he was going to shoot the men who had put him in this situation.

          "Move out of the way," Jed directed Grandma Grigsby.

          _No, Kid, please!  Don't kill them or you'll be on the run the rest of your life and I won't be there to help you!_

          She stepped to one side, glancing back long enough to see the expression on Jed's face.  Laura stepped in behind the men, a shotgun held on them as well.  "Here, Shank, see what you've done.  Does it make you happy?" the Kid growled ominously.

          "Now, boy, don't do anything foolish," Shank said.

          "Foolish?  Look at him!  Heyes never hurt anybody.  Never!" Curry yelled.  "You've damn near killed him, and I won't see you lay hands on him."

          _Don't you dare kill him, Jedidiah Curry!_   Hannibal panicked mentally scrambling with everything he had to reach the Kid.  He began to fight in Curry's arms.

          "Jed, you get back to Hannibal," Grandma said sternly, adding when he hesitated, "Mind what I told you, boy!"

          Curry fought down the impulse to kill the two men where they stood, but when Heyes cried out, he laid the gun aside and wrapped both arms around his cousin, trying to calm him down.

          "You two, in the kitchen," Grandma directed with a slight wave of the gun.  The two men backed out of the room as Curry reached to place another cold cloth on Heyes' chest.  "Sit," she told them.  Shank and Davin sat down at the kitchen table and Grandma held the shotgun on them while Laura tied their hands behind their backs.  "Where are the other two?"

          "They're covering the only open pass out of the valley," Shank said, the second man shooting him an angry look when he did.

          Heyes screamed in the other room, and Curry's voice echoed, full of fear.  "Grandma?"  She left Laura with the men and went to the boys.  Curry was trying to hold Hannibal down as he fought up off the mattress, eyes wide but unseeing.  Struggling to draw a shuddering rasp that passed for a breath, Hannibal's hands flailed weakly against the Kid's arms.  "Please, Heyes, please, take it easy.  It's just me."

          Heyes could hear the Kid's voice as it found him, but the fever left him unable to focus well enough to realize that it was his cousin who still held him.  He tried to find Curry, reaching vainly, but that seemed to make the Kid mad, why was the Kid mad?  He managed to scream.

          "Lady!" Shank yelled from the kitchen.  "Lady, I can help him!"

          "Shut up, Shank, shut up or so help me I will kill you!" Curry screamed.  _What do I do?  He's dying.  What do I do!?_

          Heyes cried out again in agony, collapsing into a small lump on the bed.  He was dying right in front of Curry's eyes and there wasn't a thing the young man could do.  Grandma Grigsby looked at Jed, shaking her head. "I don't know, Jed, I just don't know what else to do."

          "Lady!"

          "Stay with him."  She returned to the kitchen.  "What the devil do you want? I've a mind to shoot you myself for what you've done to that boy."

          "I can help him," Shank said.

          "Art, are you crazy?" his companion asked.

          "Look, my father was a doctor back in Boston, I grew up helping him.  I went to medical school.  I'm a doctor, for God's sake!"

          Grandma Grigsby hesitated until she heard Curry.  "Damn it, Heyes, damn you, don't die on me!"

          Laying the gun down she took a knife from the rack Nathan made and cut the hunter free.  He rose and followed her into the bedroom. Curry was holding Heyes in his arms, tears running down his face as he cradled the unmoving man, rocking slowly from side to side.  "Stay the hell away from him, haven't you done enough?" he yelled at Shank, who, ignoring the comment went to the bedside and put out his hands.

          "Let me have him," he said to Curry.

          Curry's eyes blazed, one hand dropping toward his gun again.  "Do it, Jed," Grandma snapped, breaking through the hatred that consumed Curry's thoughts.  He looked at her.  "Give Hannibal to him.  Hurry, boy, he's dying."

          Curry looked down at the pale still form of his cousin and let Shank lift Heyes from his arms.  "Your trough."

          "Follow me," Grandma said.  Curry climbed from the bed, following the pair out of the house.  She trotted to one of the small corrals, swinging open the gate.  Shank carried Heyes to the full trough and, using his foot, broke through the thin layer of ice that had built up over night.  He lowered Heyes into the cold water.

          Heyes screamed.

          Curry lunged forward, but the old woman caught him, bringing up her hand to slap him sharply across the face.  He stopped.  "Let him work, Jed.  It's the only chance Hannibal has."

          Heyes was no longer watching the actions of the people below him, and he fought viciously as he felt himself drawn back into a greater pain.  It closed in on him like he was drowning, and he clawed for the place he was before, a place where there was no pain, no horror, but he was unable to stop the pull.

          "If he dies, so help me, I'll kill them both," Curry said through tears, watching Heyes fighting weakly in the trough.

          She looked knowingly at the young man.  "No you won't, Jed.  You're not a killer."

          Shank continued to hold Heyes in the water as he struggled vainly.

          Pain seared through him, causing him to cry out, though Heyes couldn't tell if it was only in his mind, or if he was actually screaming.  Hands held him in the cold, allowing it to slice through the fire that burned within him.

          Hannibal couldn't tell how long the ordeal lasted, only that strong arms were finally lifting him from his private little hell.  He managed to get his eyes open long enough to see an older man lowering him into bed.  The man had blond hair and dark eyes, but the features shifted under Heyes unfocused vision.  "Pa?" he managed to gasp out.

          "Easy, boy," Shank said gently as he laid him down, visions of his own son filling his mind.

          Curry watched, stiffening at the comment, confused at the reaction.

          The bounty hunter pulled the quilts up and sighed heavily.  "I don't know if that broke the fever, but at least we lowered it for the time being."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Jed sat on the bed, watching Heyes as he slept.  The fever, fallen off to a manageable level, allowed Heyes to finally rest.  Shank stood by the fireplace in the room, staring into the flames.

          "Why?" Curry asked quietly, without turning to face the man.

          "Why what, boy?"

          "Why did you save his life, when you've been trying to kill us for almost two weeks?"

          Shank hesitated, cleared his throat, then walked over to sit in the rocking chair.  He draped one booted foot over his knee and began to rock.  "Believe it or not, about six years ago I was an ordinary doctor, working in Denver," he began.

          Curry reached out and let a hand rest on Heyes' shoulder, gently rubbing the corded muscles.

          "My wife had died two years earlier, but we had a son, Scott.  He was my world.  I was so proud of that boy," the hunter sighed, placing both feet on the floor and leaning forward.  "He was about your age, early twenties, and he'd been back east studying medicine.  He was traveling to visit me when the train he was on was held up.  He was killed trying to stop the men from hurting a young woman.  She died a few days later."  Curry remained silent, considering the man's words.

          "I went crazy, started to drink, and eventually lost my practice.  I started hating men, any man who might have killed Scott.  Outlaws.  I thought I could somehow make up for his death my killing the men who were responsible."

          Curry removed the damp cloth from his cousin's forehead and replaced it in the bowl of water.  He turned on the bed to face Shank.  "Me and Heyes, we never shot anyone."

          "I've heard that," Shanks said, studying the young blond man's eyes.  "I couldn't let myself think of the men I tracked as being human.  I was dedicated to helping men to alleviate their pain and suffering, not hurting them.  I didn't come by hate naturally, but I surrounded myself with others where it did.  Others who hated more than I did, and I let their hate poison me."  He stood and walked over to look down at Heyes.  "When I saw him lying there, I saw Scott.  When I saw you, how you cared, I knew how wrong I was about the two of you, and probably quite a few others."

          "Wrong?"

          "I assumed you couldn't care about one another.  I refused to think you might be human."

          "I still don't like you, Shank," Curry told him, "but I thank you for saving his life.  I owe you for that."

          The man smiled.  "I don't blame you, boy.  I don't like me much right now, either."  He left the cousins, heading back to the kitchen.  "It isn't over yet," Shank said from the doorway.  "The other two will eventually come back to look for Davin and I, and they won't let twenty thousand dollars ride out of this valley, even if I did."

          Curry turned back to his cousin.  "Heyes'll figure a way out."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          There were warm hands on his shoulders, someone rubbing the tension out of his aching muscles, sore from the fever and the cramps and dreams that came with it.  "Kid?"

          "Right here, Heyes."

          Hannibal forced his heavy eyelids open and looked up at his cousin, smiling at the expression the younger man wore.  "How long?"

          "Going on four days."

          "Since I was shot?"

          "No," Curry said, "since you almost died.  Shank was able to bring your fever down, though, and he think it's finally broken with that last fight."

          Heyes eyes widened.  "Shank?"

          "He's changed his mind about us."

          "Now, I've got a bad feelin' about that."

          "Don't worry, I'm watchin' him real close," Curry reassured his partner.  "Grandma says that her husband and boys should be home in a day or so.  Once you're able to travel, they'll help us out of the valley…"  Curry paused, looking away as he finished.  "…if we want to leave."

          "What do you mean?"

          "Grandma thought we could stay on here if we wanted.  We could work for her or one of her sons.  We could be part of a family again, Heyes."

          "Do you want to stay?"

          "I don't know.  I really don't know."

          Grandma Grigsby's face appeared over the Kid's shoulder, smiling down at Hannibal.  "Welcome back," she said.

          "Thank you, for all you've done," Heyes told her.

          She patted his cheek.  "Go back to sleep."

          Heyes nodded, closing his eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Hannibal lay in bed and listened to the rhythmic ring of ax on wood as the Kid increased Grandma's winter woodpile.  Almost three weeks had passed since the fever had broken and Heyes was getting restless.  Grandma's husband, sons, and grandsons were home – not to mention Lannie.  There had been more names and faces to put together then back when he joined the Plummer Gang.  Of course, Lannie had been the easy one.  Heyes sighed and closed his eyes.  Now _there_ was a reason to consider settling down.  Twenty-two, with long chestnut hair, grey eyes and a wild streak that Heyes found irresistible, she had caught his attention immediately – not to mention his breath.  Lannie was a rebel, riding with her brothers, roping, shooting, and generally upsetting the natural order of things wherever she went, including the kitchen.  Heyes grinned, a reason indeed.

          _Things are good here_ , Heyes thought.  Why, he was even glad when Shank had decided to stay on after his men were escorted from the valley by the Gillilands and Grigsbys.  With Doctor Reynolds still gone and the valley cut off from Winnemucca by the snow, Shank had taken it upon himself to act as the valley's resident physician.  He'd been busy, too, delivering two babies, setting a broken leg and treating a bruised skull when ol' Mrs. Peters' applied her rolling pin to Mr. Peters head.

          The hypnotic ring of the ax stopped and Heyes opened his eyes and listened while the Kid exchanged a few words with someone.  The sounds of boots echoed thoroughout the house and Hannibal smiled as Shank entered the room.  "Mornin'."

          "Morning," Shank said, walking over to stand next to the fireplace.  Pulling his worn riding gloves off Shank thrust his hands closer to the flames.  "It's coolin' off a bit."

          Heyes brow furrowed.  "Art, it's been coolin' off a bit for some time now.  You didn't come over here to give me a run down on the weather.  What's wrong?"

          Shank shrugged.  "I've been watching you and Jed," he said, his back still turned.

          "And?"

          "And, I think the two of you are on the verge of making a very big mistake."

          "What mistake might that be?"

          Shank crossed to the rocker and sank down into it.  "You and Jed thinking about staying on in the valley come spring?"

          Heyes paused.  He still had some difficulty trusting the man, despite the fact he owed him his life.  "We might be, why?"

          "I know you two feel like family here with the Grigsbys and Gillilands, and I've seen the spark in your eye when Lannie's around, but I think the two of you would be makin' a big mistake if you stayed here."

          "Why?  The Kid and I haven't had a family of our own in a long time, and Nevada's a far piece from Wyoming.  This is a chance for us to start fresh."

          "I realize that.  But what I'm saying is, you're going to be wanted in Wyoming.  Those dodgers won't just go away, Hannibal.  Sooner or later there'll be people who want to collect on them that'll find you, and you'll be putting the people you love in danger."

          "You want to expound on that a little, Shank?"

          "Why do you think my men haven't come back with a posse?"

          "I suppose because the passes are closed and they know what kind of reception they'll get.  Besides, I can't see them splitting the reward by bringing the law into it.  If they came back, I think they'd come alone, and I think they're too scared to come back."

          "That's where you're wrong.  I have a lot of respect for you, son.  You're smart, smart as any I've met, but you're being pure stupid about this.  They may call this valley Paradise, but don't confuse a name with reality.  We tracked you all the way from Wyoming, don't forget."

          "It'll be hard to, believe me."

          Shank winced slightly at the barb.  "Those men aren't back because the passes leading into this valley are closed by snow, and only because of that.  I know them.  As soon as the first thaw will let them through, they'll be back here, with help, probably the kind that won't care what they have to do to get part of twenty thousand dollars.  You'll endanger this entire valley if you stay."

          Heyes glared angrily at the man.  The same thoughts had haunted and nagged him the last week as he recuperated.  But, damn it, he didn't want to leave. These people were family.  They had opened their home and their hearts and made him and the Kid a part of something good again.  Grandma's words echoed through his mind, "You need time to be young men, not wanted men."  _Wanted men, that's what we are, wanted, dead or alive_.  There were plenty of men out there who wouldn't care if innocent people were killed, not when they were after twenty thousand dollars.  "Maybe I can leave, let the Kid stay here, that would be safer."

          "Don't you think you ought to ask me if I want to stay here without you first?" came Curry's voice from the doorway.

          "Kid, you belong here, with a real family.  You know you never wanted to get in as deep as we did.  This is your chance to start over.  You'd have a family—"

          "Damn it, Hannibal, you're family."

          Shank stood, stiffly uncomfortably as the words were exchanged.  "I'll leave you two to make a decision.  Believe me, I didn't want to say anything, but I felt like I had to."

          "Why do you even care, Shank?" Curry asked as the man moved to leave.

          "I guess because I've taken a shine to this valley, and its people.  I wouldn't mind settling down here myself.  The widow Trousdale is a fine looking woman, and her little boy needs a father…"  He paused, looking openly at the Kid.  "…I guess I understand as well as you about needing a family."  He brushed past Curry, leaving the cousins alone.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Now, listen to me," Heyes began, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, "there's no reason why you couldn't stay here.  You know Grandma Grigsby wants us to."

          " _Us_ , Heyes.  She wants _us_ to stay."

          "But he's right.  If we both stay, we'll put everyone here in danger, especially the family.  If I leave they'll assume we both left.  I'll go back to Devil's Hole, me and the boys will pull a few jobs and they'll quit looking for us around here.  Everyone in the valley will be safe.  You'll be safe.  Don't you see, this is your chance to get out of the business."

          "Heyes, there's one good reason why I shouldn't stay here."

          "What's that?"

          "You."

          Heyes' head dropped.  "I appreciate that, Kid, I really do, but I'd rather have you here safe, than riding with me."

          "Doesn't what I want make any difference to you?"

          "You know it does!" Heyes snapped, his dark eyes meeting Curry's blue.  "Damn it, you know I only want the best for you.  I damn near got killed, and I don't think I could take seeing you hurt like that.  I don't want to leave.  I like it here.  I care about these people.  I might even love Lannie if I had the chance to get to know her better.  First girl since Lorin who's caught my attention, but that's why I have to go.  I can't risk them, Kid.  I can't be responsible for another family getting killed."

          "Heyes, you aren't responsible for your folks getting killed, if that's what you're thinkin'."

          "Maybe, maybe not, but if I stayed here and anyone got hurt because a bunch of trigger happy bounty hunters showed up, I would be."

          "I won't stay without you.  If that's really the truth, then my staying is going to put them in danger, too."

          Heyes shook his head, but he couldn't force himself to argue the point, the Kid was right.  He wanted Curry to stay with Grandma and the rest of them, but if he did he'd be placing them in danger, as surely as if they both stayed.  But he had to give the Kid a chance for a normal life.

          "This is a chance for a real family, Jed."

          "Heyes, how many times do I have to say it?  You're my real family.  I realized that when you nearly died.  I don't want to be alone."

          "We'll be on the run, people'll still be shootin' at us, we'll have to sleep with one eye open, always looking over our shoulders—"

          "We do all right, most of the time.  Besides, the boys are sort of like family, too."

          "Yeah, I know."  Heyes stood and began to pull on his boots.  "The way I figure it, if we leave now, we should be able to make it through the north pass with Jim or one of the boys to help.  We can head out of the valley over Hinkey summit then drop down, head south, and winter in New Mexico.  Santa Fe, maybe.  It'll be a hard ride, but we can make it.  We'll be long gone by the time the passes are open and they ride back in lookin' for us."

          "Heyes?"

          "Yeah, Kid?"

          "Do you really want me to stay?"

          "No.  But I had to give you a chance to be a part of a family again.  I thought you might, be happier here."

 

 

 

          "We're partners, a team."

          "I know."

          "A good one."

          Heyes smiled.  "What's this leadin' to?"

          "Just this, you let me decide where I'm happier from now on.  I do like being here, sure.  I didn't like why, but I like it.  But, I wouldn't feel right staying here without you,"  he grinned at the dark-haired outlaw.  "Hell, I'd be worrin' about you all the time!"

          "You do that whether I'm around or not!"

          Curry sobered.  "You know what I'm trying to say."

          "I know, Kid.  I know."  Heyes finished pulling on his boots.  "I feel the same way.  Come on, let's go talk with Grandma, tell her what we're goin' to do."

          "You sure you're up to that kind of ride?"

          "I'm ready enough.  Come on."

 The End

 

* ~ *


End file.
